Verdi's Chorus

La Traviata

Well, growing up in Vietnam means that I got to listen to Red Propaganda music all the time. When I was in elementary school, my first operatic experience came from a remix of The Flowers Duet randomly played in the background of a radio ads. I remember thinking that it was the most heavenly sound any human could make. When I moved here, I didn't care much for opera until this one fateful night during my Sophomore year at Goucher. I was miserable writing this lab report on fruit flies while I clicked on an internet radio that happened to play opera. I found myself dropping everything to listen to the first two acts of Verdi's Il Trovatore. On that night, I found myself a life long companion.

I often find the opera plot confusing, and it was quite hard for me at first to see why someone has the strength to sing on for another twenty minutes before dying of consumption. A possible argument is that the chronological perception of everyday life shouldn't be clumsily applied to operas. The never ending arias that seem to delay actions are actually elaboration of several highly dramatic moments that generate the whole plot. Moreover, I know someone dies right away without uttering a note when death comes for her, ask Carmen for more information.

Yes, it's the Anvil Chorus of Il Trovatore! They are obviously drunk and boasting about their bosomy women. I like this clip since it also includes the haunting Azucena's Burn Baby Burn aria. The old gypsy in her mad rage threw in the fire her own child instead of her enemy's. This is supposed to be a secret, but being old and bitter, she bursts it out anyway. Of course, her "son" is there listening to the whole thing. As he confronts her about this, she goes "Nothing, child" on him while probably thinking "Crap!" inside.



This clip below comes from Verdi's Nabucco. The Jews are lamenting their exile from Babylon. I have a feeling that personal tragedy is a powerful source of inspiration. Verdi lost his whole family around the time he composed the opera. When Verdi died of a stroke in his late 80s, thousands of people mourned him with this famous chorus. As you can see, it receives such popularity that there is an encore!



I think that the Sassy Gay Friend will have a day trip talking to the title character of Verdi's Aida. The slave princess hides in the tomb in which her lover is to be buried alive, but I will save this talk for the future. For now, I'd like to present the glorious Triumphal March celebrating the Egyptian victory over the Ethiopian.



Do you know why I choose these to show you? I sang once. Consider that my singing voice sounds like a voodoo princess in heat, I faked my way to nearly the operatic top by singing once in the Naval Academy's chorus through the yearly collaboration of Goucher College. Or shall I say, pretending to sing and mostly fawning over guys with toned abs showing majestically through their impeccably white attires?